Otouto
by LeonaWriter
Summary: At first, he couldn't remember anything. It was much like being born anew, except that as time went by, he started to remember. The homunculi want him to forget. The military wants him to still be who he was. Envy just wants to annoy him. Non-BBI Pride!Ed
1. Chapter 1

G to FMA Moments

Otouto

AN: A real mixture of anime and manga, reimagining both of them into one. Manga more for some things, anime more for others.

---

It had all happened too fast, he knew afterwards, to even be able to remember.

There was the normal feeling of waking up, of being on the cusp of reality and dreams, except his mind was in disarray and memories scattered. His body felt strange, almost disconnected. . . but not. More like as if it wasn't actually really his body at all.

Then he was dragged under the waves of unconscious bliss once again, not to dwell on the idea until the next time he awoke.

As it happened, the next time he was awake he wasted most of the time not thinking of anything at all. For some reason, it seemed less painful.

When he finally was aware and awake enough to open his eyes, everything seemed sharper, his skin more sensitive to the slightest touch, no matter how light. He could hear clearly, ears noticing the faintest of sounds.

Such as that of what sounded like footsteps heading his way. While his tired apathy caused him to not be afraid or attempt to escape, his innate curiosity made him stay awake to find out more. Who. What. Why.

They seemed to stop, one at a time, outside of the room – or would it usually be called a cell? It was small, he knew that much – and it was enough for him to tell that there were three.

". . . so this is him, then?" asked one voice. It was deep, but not gravelly. Perhaps an older man.

"What – that one? Hmph. If you ask me, he should have been called Sloth."

The voice was female this time, with a lazy air of sensuality behind it, though eh didn't feel affected.

The third snorted. It was almost laughter, but there was a bite of something else, as well.

"Good thing it's not you in charge of this one then, huh? Don't think Sloth'd be too pleased if you replaced her like that, either!"

In speech, the voice was easy-going, seemingly taking some sort of sadistic glee in most of the things he said.

The older male voice gave a single bark of laughter, paused, then spoke again.

"Are you certain that the Master would be pleased, that we haven't all been playing against her? I would not be a part of any conspiracy of yours."

"No _worries_. I've got it all under control, and –"

"What about how he was made? Rather unorthodox method, you've got to admit that."

"Feh. . . nothing strange has happened so far."

"He hasn't even woken up yet," the woman put in. Not entirely true, but they didn't need to know that.

"Sheesh, does that even matter? Eh, fine. We'll deal with it all as we get to it. If he's weird, he's weird. If he isn't, we can keep him, right?"

"What _is_ it with you and that guy, anyhow?"

A grin could be heard in the third voice's next words, even though they grew fainter as the speaker walked back away from them.

"Nothing. Just wanna see the look on the old bastard's face... that's all."

With the third speaker gone, the others went not too long after.

---

Having heard the conversation, he had tried to stay awake for longer in order to be able to digest what he had learned from it. For the most part, he succeeded. He didn't learn anything more by thinking about what he had heard, though – not remembering enough of his life before the small enclosed space gave him nothing to work from, with or against.

On the other hand, it caused him to be awake and up enough that his activities were noticed, even if the passing of time wasn't.

The three people who had spoken outside of his room before had often come back after that time, although it may have simply been that he was aware to hear them come back.

None of them had ever spoken; it was normal for them to just come and go as they pleased, gawking at him for minutes on end as though he were some sort of new pet dog they had picked up off of the street. Then again, who would want to speak to someone who wouldn't even hear them? If they believed that he was asleep most of the time, that was probably the reason why.

This time though, the footsteps led their way up to the door and stopped there. A key turned in a lock. The door swung inward. A figure appeared in the exit way, taller than him, paler, with violet eyes and spiked green-black hair held back behind a headband. They were dressed in a top that left their arms and stomach open, and some sort of skirt and shorts. Both were black. So were the heel-less and toe-less socks that they wore on their feet and the cloth bracelets they wore on their wrists.

Smirking, they were leaning up against the frame of the simple door, watching him as though he were some sort of entertainment. He frowned, and the other's smirk grew wider. Now scowling, he crossed his arms in a show of defiance at the blatant staring, but this did not help matters. He opened his mouth, only to find that it was remarkably hard to speak after what must have been a very long time without having to. Almost as though his muscles were learning how to be used for the first time again. In the end, he did work it out, though.

"What. . . the hell are you doing. . . staring at me like that?"

The wide smirk exploded into a gale of not entirely friendly but definitely amused laughter. The figure held his side with one hand and his head with another.

"Heh. . . I should've known one of the things you'd always keep would be your great way with people, otouto."

His eyes widened at the realisation that it was Voice Number Three who was speaking to him and his manner of address towards him, narrowed at his familiarity and assumptions.

"I'm not your brother." He paused to breath, clenching his fist for still feeling weak. "Get out."

The figure – Voice Number Three – leaned in close, his eyes narrowed and his mouth smirking.

"And how exactly do you know that, chibi-chan, when you can't even remember your own name?"

He flinched back as if struck.

"I. . . do. Just do. Get _out_."

They frowned, but turned to do so, but by the time they had reached the door, almost about to close it, a spark of . . . of something, hit him, fired him up, irritated his very being. Made him speak out.

"And don't _call_ me that!"

The figure froze. One hand on the door and the other trawling through palm-tree spikes, as though painted or sculpted there. Breathing heavily, even though he felt he didn't really need to, he watched from on the bed, fists clenched still after the inexplicable outburst.

The tableau was broken when the green-haired figure turned around slowly, to reveal that he was wearing a massive grin that reached just about from ear to ear.

"Sure thing, otouto-chibi-chan!"

With that – and leaving him fuming in the meantime – they left.

In the coming few times when they and the others came to visit, he could hear an unmistakable spring in the third speaker's – green-hair's – step. All it did for him was to put him into a foul mood whenever he heard it.

---

AN: Okaay. There's the first one of this little series. Inspired by the Bluebird's Illusion game (which I haven't played and from what I've heard of it, I don't want to), yet very, very different. For one thing, I've merged the anime and manga universes in a way that's all my own. Mostly because while I like the premise of the anime... I've never watched most of it. ^_^;

The sins have been shoved around a bit, a mixture of manga and anime. This'll be expanded upon shortly.

Re-readers will notice that this Author's Note has been shortened substantially. Previous details were going to have been either spoilers or misleading. Sorry.


	2. Chapter 2

Otouto

Chapter Two

----

The next night was when the dreams started.

They made no sense to him, who had experienced nothing other than the same people in the same place for all of his existence so far. So many people he didn't know, emotions he couldn't make sense of or control. Names he couldn't match to the faces they belonged to. Places, so many, many places.

He woke up without sweat and was not breathing heavily. Such things were human, which he was not.

At least, not any more.

He knew that much, and if nothing else he knew what he _had_ been. There had been an overall sense of humanity in the dreams, even though he knew that he had never encountered one before to know even what humanity. . . was.

He was kept awake long enough by his drams that he was still brooding over them by the time his next inspection panel arrived outside his room. He had to force himself not to tense.

"Well," started the sensuous voice. She sounded amused, but for that same reason it worried him. "It seems that Sleeping Beauty has finally awoken, hm?"

There was a short pause before the other spoke.

"So it would appear."

It was a relatively new voice, one that he hadn't heard before while in his room. Yet at the same time remembrance of a sort beat and shouted from the place where his dreams had come from. Even so, something was off. . . but he tried at least not to let his thoughts be visible on his face, if they could see him.

"So – what do ya think, huh?"

Regardless of good intentions, a scowl found its way onto his face for all to see at the voice of the one who had irritated him so... and in the process, given him something which he still didn't entirely understand. Nor was he certain that he wanted to, in fact.

"Oh, he's definitely a feisty one. Makes me wonder what you could have done already to get that kind of reaction so quickly."

"You know me – probably just my enigmatic personality, y'know?"

She laughed, a superficial thing that had no real humour in it.

"Whatever you want me to believe. . . like it or not, I do know you better than that."

He snorted.

"Yeah, yeah. . . whatever. It's your delusion."

With that, the door was wrenched open for the second time. The palm tree headed homunculus grinned in at him before moving aside, and at long last he had faces to put to other voices than his. The sensuous voice – pale skin, round-ish face, waves of jet-black hair and a curvy figure.

The other, the new voice that had caused him to feel as though his dream had not been completely surreal, was more of a traditional beauty. Poised, quiet and dressed in smart office clothes, she looked more like a secretary than the homunculus she must be, from being in the company of the other two. This belief was only strengthened when she raised her head to look at him with violet eyes, strangely wide.

There was an emotion of some kind in that action, he knew. But it was too small, the emotions too complex and conflicted, for an inexperienced learner such as he was to figure out.

Not to mention, it was hard enough to concentrate on anything with a sharp ache of recognition blooming in his chest. His dreams must have known her, of this he was now certain.

In the end, she was the one who broke her gaze first, turning her once more flat expression to the green-haired one, who bent down to look him in the eye.

"Look here, brat. We're gonna do a deal, you and I. You do know what a deal is, right?"

His eyes narrowed as he nodded.

"What sort of . . . deal are we talking about, here?"

The grin grew shark-like, showing a lot of teeth.

"Easy one. You tell me something, I tell you something."

He thought about it for a moment, but although the idea wasn't his idea of a good thing coming from such a person, he didn't really have all that much of a choice. He didn't have anything to base any of his opinions on, either. He nodded again.

"Right – good! Now then, you got a name, brat?"

The other two seemed to await his answer with baited breath just as much as the palm tree guy was. Who was also now tapping his fingers in an unheard rhythm against his hip.

He opened his mouth, but then closed it again. What could he say? That he had never thought it important enough to have something to call himself by, that t hadn't really crossed his mind before? Or that there had already been the idea of one given to him during the madness of dreams? He clutched at his head slightly in confusion and opened his mouth to form the word –

Only to be stopped when the tapping suddenly stopped and the hand made a sharp cutting motion from one side to the other, hidden to the others but perfectly visible to him. The usually smiling face had also gone serious, far more so than he ever remembered seeing or hearing him being before.

His mouth shut. He shook his head silently, not trusting himself to say anything else after that.

"See, told you he turned out fine." Palm Tree turned to face them all and – surprise of all surprises – was grinning from ear to ear in an unnerving way. "How about this, then – I give you one?"

His eyes narrowed, but he made no move to indicate yes or no; evidently the other took this as permission to go on, as he leaned back against the wall languidly and with an easy smile on his face.

"She's Sloth," he stated, waving a hand in the general direction of the half-remembered face. "She's Lust," he continued with a wave at the well-endowed woman. "And me? I'm Envy. Now. . . I wonder what kind of sin you are?"

It was obviously a rhetorical question, but he glared back at Envy all the same.

"_Pride_."

The word reverberated through his entire being along with a sense of fear, apprehension and thrill. For some reason or other, it just. . .

"Well, it certainly fits," said Lust. "No matter that he wasn't exactly created for it."

He looked between the three of them. Blinked wondered if what had just been said had been complementary or not.

"I suppose. . ." stated Sloth, "that this would make him somewhat akin to being our younger brother?"

Lust snorted in amusement. Envy smirked.

"Good idea. Heh. Otouto, eh?"  
The last was aimed at him – Pride, now – and he reacted with almost scarily predictable ease.

"Like hell I am, and who're you calling –!"

He was cut off by suddenly not being on the bed, but instead being held up against the wall of his room by a hand on his collar.

"Just you _dare_ try and talk that way even once more, and so help me, I'll. . ."

Pride swallowed hard, attempting to keep the fear and nerves off his face – and failing spectacularly.

With a snarl, Envy dropped him hard to the floor and turned slightly to face the others.

"I think that _Pride_ here needs a short lesson in _manners_."

The woman named Sloth nodded demurely and left without a word, as if this were a natural or normal occurrence. Lust's eyes hardened just before she followed the other woman out, sending a calculating look Envy's way. She didn't even spare Pride, still recovering from the impromptu attack, a glance.

The door slammed shut behind them, but neither of the two inside moved so much as a muscle until both sets of footsteps had faded away completely. Once they had, Envy turned back to him with thunder written on his face.

"What are you – a bloody imbecile?! You have a _second_ death wish or something? Because you're sure acting like it!"

Pride blinked in shock. What had happened to the Envy that had been furious with him for speaking out of turn? But that wasn't the first thing to come out of his mouth.

". . . 'Second' death?"

Envy put a hand to his head in a mild show of irritation.

"Sheesh, you really don't know anything, do you? You were killed, and someone tried to bring you back. Look in the mirror next time you're let near one. Did a rather good job of it too – you look pretty much like you always did."

His eyes widened with the implications he saw and he leaned forward intently.

"You . . . who. . . ?" Envy tensed, narrowing his eyes, but Pride couldn't discern a reason why. "You knew who I am. Was. Who am I?"

The on-guard look on the other's face instantly disappeared, to be replaced by a scowl of irritation.

"I've already told you the only thing you never knew, idiot. There's no point saying anything else – not if you're going to remember everything anyway. That'd be damn near useless."  
Pride's memory sparked, but it was such a small and faint thing that he passed it by without thought. He shook his head.

"Do I look like I care? I want to know."

"Look at this face. You see this face? It's a face that ain't tellin' anything. You figure it all out."

"Why you little- !"

Envy started to chuckle.

"Shouldn't that go the other way around, shrimp?"

The following rant was only just quiet enough not to reach all the way down the hall and into the rooms and corridors beyond. Envy watched in fascinated humour right to the end.

". . . so just shove that up your backside and tell me _something_, damn it!"

For a while after that there was silence. They stared at each other, Pride hating himself for the desperation that had to be evident on his face. At first, Envy didn't seem to have reacted at all. In a rare display of defeat, Pride hung his head and turned his face away.

"Fine!"

Envy's outburst caught them both by surprise, a shout in still air.

"You want to know something? Then tell me what it was that you were gonna say before, when I stopped you."

Pride turned back so quickly that he was sure he'd have gotten whiplash if he'd been human still. His vacant eyes widened, fists clenching on fabric.

". . . What?"

Envy lapped a hand on the top of his forehead, eyes closed.

"Your _name_, stupid. What was it you almost said?"

Pride's eyes went wide for a moment before he closed them in an attempt to remember what had been going through his mind at that time. Mostly, it was all a mess of mangled memory that he had to put in some semblance of order for it to be useful at all.

Faces – so many faces. Some eh recognised either from his current life or from his dreams and other repressed memories that were now making themselves known. Others still he did not recognise at all.

All of them were calling him. He couldn't always tell what they were saying, only hat it was definitely him who they were calling out for. They always said the same few things. A word. A string of words.

One word, sometimes two. One word.

A dark-haired man, a suit of armour, a blond boy, a blond girl who was older than the boy, a big man, a man with a beard, a woman with dreadlocks, a woman who looked just – just – like Sloth. A man, who had golden hair and eyes, so very much like his own.

For each face there was a vague feeling of familiarity, but no true recognition.

All the same, they were all saying that one word. Disjointed, but in stereo.

His mouth opened to speak, to form it. It was new, yet at the same time an old friend to his newly created body and amnesiac mind.

"E. . . d. Ed. . . war. . . d."

That was it. That was it – his name. . .

"Edward."

He opened his eyes with a grin, but by that point the room was empty once more, Envy gone. He leaned back against the wall with a smile on his face.

_Edward_. . .

-----

AN: I think that by now _at least_, you can tell that it's completely different from any and all BBI based Pride!Ed fics out there. I even recently read a transcript of the game.... and found it monumentaly boring. As you can see, I much prefer my version. Which has fun and games and starts with Ed waking up a homunculus. ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

Otouto

Chapter Three

---

Over the next few days, he was left alone, not even with the occasional footsteps of someone passing through to keep him company. Almost as though he had been forgotten.

The strangest thing was that Pride wasn't even all that bothered by this. In fact, he saw it as a good thing. It meant that he had time enough to think over everything that had happened since he had first became aware. Since he had first started becoming whoever or whatever he was changing into.

Time enough to dwell on his memories both after, and . . . before becoming a homunculus.

Because now that he had been reminded of his name, the rest had all seemed to just follow after.

Edward. Edward Elric. Pride smiled, an almost feral light in his eyes. His _name_. Names had power. The power to strengthen . . . and the power to destroy, utterly.

Pride had no intention of being destroyed. He simply wouldn't allow it. He figured that he must have been pretty powerful, maybe important or just plain strong for the homunculus to have bothered with wanting to keep him around. They hadn't seemed the type to do something for no reason or nothin, in either life, from what he knew of them. Equivalent exchange must have come into the equation at some point. Something they had given him, something he could do for them.

And so, he had long since resolved to sort through as many of the salvageable memories carried forward from his past self as he could – if Edward Elric had been strong, then Pride would not rest until he both knew what had made him strong, and was also able to use it himself.

Edward. One of those common regal-sounding names – probably suggested by the absentee, alchemist father. The younger brother had something similar. Elric. Typical Amestrian, yet 'he' and 'his' brother were the last of that name. It had come from his. . . their. . .

Mother.

The one word had him bent over and clutching his head, turning the air blue with words he hadn't heard since waking up. Previously, he had wondered. Now, he was thankful for the fact that everyone had left him to his own devices, in his own company.

The. . . memories, they came in flashes and spurts, some making no sense whatsoever. Others making enough for him to understand and piece together the clues to the mystery that was himself.

A house. A family. Himself. Others – always people, so many people, hardly ever left alone, not at all like Pride, yet so similar, at the same time.

"_Edward."_ A soft voice, one that he feels comforted by, says as though from a great distance and yet at the same time not too far away at all. "_Get inside. You'll get a cold from playing out there in the rain for so long – Al came in ages ago_!"

"_Wow, that's amazing, Edward! And you created that with alchemy? I'm so proud of you,"_ the same woman said with a soft feeling that felt like a smile, and maybe a pat on the head.

"_Edward, stop being so mean to your little brother – what has he ever done to you?"_

Another voice, a feeling of shame, an action. . . and once more, that woman, always that woman. Everything always seemed to go back to her.

"_Really, Edward, I'm fine. . . you don't need to fuss so. You're making Alphonse worry."_

A homunculus was not supposed to have human feelings, wasn't that what he had believed from the moment when he had first become aware, awoken? So, bearing that in mind, why did he feel such a great emotion of dread at the turn the memories were taking, at his inability to stop them coming? The. . . sheer, strange exhilaration that he felt from simply _feeling_ properly once more. A small, quiet voice telling him that it was for his own good, that it hurt, but what he received in exchange would be worth the pain.

No words. Simply feelings, sad, bitter, denial, not-here and not-now and why her?! but no one would or could answer. They had no answer.

Pride felt himself quiver with the strength of the remembered events, things real to Edward, that had happened to Edward, yet were now hitting Pride with the force of a transmutation recoil. All because of one name.

The power to strengthen . . . and the power to destroy, utterly. His own words thrown back at himself, mocking him. How could this have been Edward's power? All of this chaos...

Equivalent exchange. Determination – Edward's, never ending, fire-filled eyes so unlike Pride's that although they looked similar despite the age difference, the changes between the two were obvious.

In the cell – on the bed – resting – waiting – doing nothing, day in and day out. One could well ask where his own pride was.

"_Look! We can't go wrong using this theory! . . . It is! This says how to do it! We can raise mom back from the dead!"_

His own voice. Pride shook from déjà vu and nausea. Had he ever been so naive? Apparently. The uncontrollable tornado tore through him still, showing him through images, feelings and sounds Edward's greatest mistake. The aftermath. His _brother_-

_Fullmetal_.

He jerked upright, not knowing exactly when he had curled around himself like that, with his knees up and arms around them, and not even caring. It was almost as though someone had said that name – a name that he was sure he had heard before, in the din of voices that had tried to tell him who he was before Envy had stopped him with a motion – right in his ear. Or at least in the general vicinity of the room he was cooped up in.

But there was no one here. No one. Not a soul, human or homunculus, other than him. Edward. Pride. Elric. Fullmetal.

He scowled briefly, wondering what new nightmares would come if he bothered himself to delve deeper into the mystery that was 'Fullmetal'.

It could wait. He still hadn't finished figuring out who Edward Elric was.

He had said before to himself that he would not allow himself to be destroyed by the power of his own former name, and he would hold to it. No matter what.

It was a matter of pride.

-------

"Damn it!"

One gloved fist slammed down hard on the desk at which the person attached to said fist occupied, causing several sheets of paper with important information to flutter innocently to the floor, and several other things shudder under that sheer force of will.

"I want answers, people. And I don't care who I have to cross to get them – this has been going on for _weeks_ now, and that is simply _not_ acceptable."

No one looked at all surprised at the outburst and indeed, it wasn't even the first. Nor, they were sure, would it be the last. But they wouldn't say that they were desensitised in any way, because it went mostly without saying that they all felt the same as the Colonel.

Closing her eyes for only a blink of a moment and sighing lightly so that hardly anyone could tell that she had done so, First Lieutenant Hawkeye crossed the short distance between where she had been working and the Colonel's own office, where meanwhile the man had begun to rest his head upon his hands, which were cupped, arms almost flat on the desk.

"Sir," she said. "with all due respect to both you and Edward – you need to rest. You're not of any use to anyone if you work yourself to exhaustion."

Mustang groaned into his hands but then sat back up. The signs of the colonel's grief and fatigue were much more readily visible at a shorter distance; his eyes darker, with crow's feet underneath them and his uniform wrinkled in places, not showing the usual care and attention that the ambitious alchemist took towards his appearance. He shook his head at her.

"How can I?" he asked quietly. "I was the one who introduced him to the whole idea of being a state alchemist in the first place, when I knew he far too damn young. Tell me – why the hell did I do that?"

"And if you hadn't, sir, what would they have done? Where would they have been now? What goals would they have had? From what I knew of Edward," she said, voice softening slightly against her will, "he would have continued on to his goal no matter whether you had helped him or not. Sir."

For a long moment he looked at her, his dark, fathomless eyes seemingly searching her own for something . . . she didn't know what. When he looked away with a sigh, she wondered what he had found there.

The door that lead onto the main hallway opened, its noise loud in the oppressive silence that had come with Mustang and Hawkeye's brief exchange, and the very subject of the late Edward Elric.

Mustang looked up sharply to see who it was, only to find that it was a still healing Maes Hughes who was walking in the doorway, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face. Still, at least the fact that he was healing at all meant that he was alive. Risa wasn't sure whether her precious superior would have been able to cope with both the elder Elric and his oldest friend had gone before his eyes on that fateful day.

"Well?" said Mustang, dryly. "Got anything?"

"Not a thing," came the by now expected reply. "But – you're gonna want to hear this."

Everyone stopped what they were doing. Or rather, to be more exact, stopped pretending to be doing something else other than watching.

"Go on."

"Well. You know how everything's been getting that much quieter ever since-" Hughes cut himself off, knowing not to bring up the incident directly in front of the Colonel, who was still seriously berating himself over it, "-then."

"I am aware of that. Wasn't the theory that the homunculi had gone into hiding, or that they were working on something important among themselves? That's the only thing we thought would make sense, if I remember correctly."

Mustang steepled his fingers in front of him in thought.

"You're right. Thing is, it looks like whatever they were working on is over – they seem to be mobilising again. Or at least, whoever it is who's been tweaking at things behind the scenes for so long has picked up their puppet strings again. Fights starting to break out all over the place – it's what makes sense."

Mustang frowned, troubled, and the others didn't have to think hard to understand why.

"That doesn't sound good," he said, stating the obvious.

"Of course it isn't!" Hughes exclaimed loudly, waving his hands in the air. "It's awful! Up until now it's been bad enough, but at least then I've been able to spend quality bonding time with my wife and darling Elicia, but now-! Who knows if I'll be able to even say goodnight to my little girl before she goes to sleep, if I'm going to be needed at work so much more..."

Mustang rolled his eyes at his friend's behaviour, but inside was making rapid calculations and plans. It was hardly likely that the homunculi had gone into hiding – they had only thought that as their most recent altercation had also been their first, and largest, and perhaps hadn't been in their enemy's plans. Yet the idea that they had been planning or readying something during the quiet of the past few weeks was at the same time worrying and thrilling.

Perhaps . . . there would be a chance to strike back.

----

_Fullmetal_.

Pride pondered the word slowly, just as he had his own name, earlier.

It implied that at some point, some part of him had been metallic, either in physical or mental, emotional nature. But the feelings that are associated with the name whenever he thinks on it continue to confuse him. Such a muddled mix of thought, as clear as a muddied river. To be certain, there was a certain amount of pride, but it was more a determination towards independence than that his former, human self had ever felt pleased to bear the moniker. It had instilled some amount of hardness, but mostly from how people perceived him and expected him to be something more, which he wasn't. It had without a doubt 'shone', since his reputation had grown exponentially in the years which Pride now remembered from the time when Edward had begun to be Fullmetal until his final memory as Edward.

Yet the annoyance, the anger, the frustration, the confusion, the care, the grudging respect and the stubborn refusal to acknowledge defeat . . . those, those were not things that he would have thought to be tied to the name.

A vision of someone with dark hair, dressed in blue, and surrounded by the orange light of fire in the darkness temporarily invaded his thoughts.

The figure was running, and Pride could see as though from a distance that his eyes were wide and one white glove with its alchemic fire array had been nearly torn to shreds, leaving the man with only one. A woman followed soon after, a gun in her hand and not far away, a suit of armour – _Al, that's Al! If I'm here, then where the hell is he? Where's Al!?_ – could be seen, but Pride's eyes were on the man, the one who had inspired that interesting reaction.

"_Edward! Damn it, Fullmetal, I only gave you one order – don't die on me now! Not..._"

Pride tore himself free from the nightmare like memory with a gasp of a breath, feeling the emotions that came with it all too clearly. Sometimes, he hated that, that every time he learned something new about Edward, he had to _feel_ it, as well, but he had long since learned that the simple act of feeling was much of what had apparently made Edward strong. Though perhaps Edward had felt too much.

The sound of footsteps, light as they may be, was new and loud to someone who had had no visitors in well over a week. Pride scowled. By this point, he could tell easily enough who was coming to visit him in his claustrophobic cell. There weren't all that many of them who came, after all.

"You again," he managed to ground out.

"Gee," came the mock-saddened drawl, "and here I was thinking I'd get this warm welcome. Never mind. I never woulda wanted it in the first place."

"Why are you here, anyway? Come to gloat at the prisoner, Envy? Or is there actually a reason why you keep coming back like this that I'd like to know?"

Envy leaned his body forward to look further into the cell, a frown on his face.

"Now isn't that an interesting outlook. So much different to the last time I came by here, ya know." The aptly green-haired homunculus straightened to give Pride a sidelong look. "Almost as if I was talking to a whole other person."

Pride didn't bother trying to correct the other, resorting to a simple yet effective glare.

"Who do you think I have to blame for that, then? Who was it who first made me actually start to wonder about who I was? Well? It makes me _curious_, Envy."

Envy's expression didn't change very much. Perhaps not enough, even. A small smirk did play about the homunculus' mouth, though. Cynical and not slightly sadistic.

"You might as well know you shouldn't bother trying to act like anything's off around the others, then. _Pride_." Envy continued as though Pride himself hadn't said anything just previously. "Heh – even if you did, it'd be your existence on the line if anything went wrong, not mine. And if you tried to blame me, who'd they believe? You, or me? I'm the oldest one here – why would _I_ do something like that?"

The glare only intensified.

"I don't know. You tell me."

A pause.

"Nah. I don't think I will."

A hiss of air as Pride breathed out in an effort to keep himself calm and have a level head.

". . . _Damn you_."

Envy took further steps into the room, closer to Pride, until they were merely a foot or so away.

"That'd be kinda hard, you pint-sized brat. I'm already damned. And guess what? So are you."

Despite the insult, something, or maybe more than one something, kept Pride's tongue glued firmly to the top of his mouth right up until Envy had quite nearly reached the door once more, about to leave.

"You wait," he said, standing and using all of his – admittedly not excessive – full height to his advantage. "I need to ask you something."

He paused to breath. Envy had stopped, but hadn't turned around or spoken. His body language exuded annoyance and thinly veiled tension. A graceful tautening of the muscles that could precede either dance or something deadly.

"Al," Pride said in a rush. "I need to know where he is. The part of me that remembers him won't rest at all until I know that he's still out there. So _tell me_."

Envy's shoulders started to shake, and it was only Pride's combined knowledge of the other homunculus that didn't make him wonder whether there was something the matter. This was rewarded when, only a few moments later, the shaking was revealed as laughter, as Envy held his sides to hold in his mirth.

"What do you think I am – your goddamn freak show or something? Well think again, Envy." He took a step forward and towards the other, continuing in a low voice. "Tell me where my brother is, or I'm gonna beat the crap outta you. Don't think I won't, either – because I _will_."

Envy's laughter started to die out slowly, but the moment the homunculus' violet eyes met Pride's still-golden ones which were fiery with their determination, and something in them halted Envy, made him pause long and hard enough to still the laughter entirely.

"Sheesh... have you got a one track mind or what? Isn't there anything else you can talk about – it makes you look as if you can't put a thought together in that tiny brain of yours that doesn't have that lumbering tin can as well."

"Where. Is. He?" Pride's normally flat and level voice – except when insulting Envy – had turned into an almost feral growl. "What the hell have you _done_ with him?"

The part of Pride that was Edward and so would not rest until he knew that his little brother was alive and well had been woken up and would now do anything to get that information.

Envy snickered and sauntered back towards the doorway.

"Keh – chill out, you shrimp. We haven't done anything to the guy," he said with a backhand wave.

Envy was almost out of the cell's door when he was hit – hard, very hard – on the head and in the back. He whipped around in a rage.

"Why the hell did you do that for, you idiot!"

"Because I felt like it," Pride replied, back to using the mostly flat tones he had before, except with a slight hint of smugness. "Also, because that was the third time since coming in here that you've insulted my height, you bastard!"

Pride stalked back off to the inner area of his cell with his arms crossed and feeling much better, while Envy sweatdropped and wondered what had just happened.

----

AN: Whoo! I haz plot, I haz plot! It's actually going somewhere that the readers can see! Iz good, no?

I'd originally not meant there to be a bit with the military in it yet at all, but I needed something to break the chapter up and to use as a time marker, and then I found that I'd used Riza more than I'd first expected, too. All in all, worked out well, I think. There's a fanart on my profile for the second half of the first section.

This may be the heralding of longer chapters for this story, or it may not be. Depends on the scenes in the future chapters. I hope I've written everyone well.


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